Wrong
by kasumi.EFP
Summary: This fiction is a missing moment from the episode "Dead things" (6x13). What did Spike and Buffy think on the balcony of the Bronze? What happened up there?


**- Wrong -**

_Disclaimer__: All the characters, places and quotes are the property of their respective owners, that are Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I'm not writing for profit and no copyright infringement is intended._

_Summary__: __This fiction is a missing moment from the episode "Dead things" (6x13).  
What did Spike and Buffy think on the balcony of the Bronze on episode "Dead things"? What happened up there?_

_Genres__: Missing Moment, erotic, introspective_

_Rating__: NC17_

_Author's note:_

_I chose this title, inspired by the "you came back wrong" quote of Spike and by the song of Depeche Mode (from the album "Sounds Of The Universe", 2009)._

_Thanks to Sara666* for giving me the idea for this fiction! She told me about it for a joke, but it grew slowly in my mind till assuming the current shape._

_Special thanks to Nightlady* for her advices and the help to translate this fiction into English.  
_

_* They are users of EFP, an italian web site hosting BTVS's fictions (and several other fandoms!)_

_You can find Nightlady in and Elysian Fields too (as one of my favourite authors), since she is registered as an author from August 2012 and she is publishing some fictions of hers in English._

_Thanks to __Carol (Spike is the BIG BAD) for bet__a-reading this story!_

**Chapter one**_  
_

The balcony was softly lit by clusters of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Buffy leaned against the railing and looked down at the dance floor of the Bronze, where her friend were busy fooling around. She took a deep breath, enjoying the clean air after the smell sweat and stale air that permeated throughout the ground floor.

She didn't often use the balcony. She usually spent her time dancing, drinking or chatting with her friends. In all the years, she had only been up there a few times, looking for a quiet place to talk with Willow or have some privacy with Angel.

She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn't know how beautiful she looked under the yellow light. Her expression was nostalgic, sad and sweet at the same time.

She craved for the peace that came from solitude, driven by a sudden need to keep a distance from the world. A need she had never felt before coming back and that made her feel estranged with herself.

She had never confided in her friends about this uneasiness. She was ashamed of it and, moreover, didn't want them to worry about her.

So, she just waited to reach her breaking point and then walked away, searching for her crumb of peace. Outdoor, in her room, on the balcony... wherever she could. And sometimes she went to the graveyard… craving for the solace of her devoted vampire lover's arms.

Said lover crossed the front door of the pub, his presents touching her.

_She didn't know if she went there in a sort of unspoken invitation for him or only to spend some time alone. Either wa__y he crossed the mob and raised the staircase, reaching her in a minute, as silent as a cat._

_«You see__... You try to be with them... but you always end up in the dark... with me.»_

His voice was soft and hoarse, when he whispered in her ear.

He approached right behind her and laid a hand on the railing, surrounding her. She thought he didn't need to do that possessive act, she wasn't going to escape anywhere.

_«__What would they think of you ... if they found out ... all the things you've done? If they knew... who you really were?»_

His fingers brushed slowly over her bare shoulder and Buffy quivered, like they burned her. She couldn't avoid it, as if it was the first time he touched her. As if his hands had never stroked her body, never given her the highest pleasure she had ever felt. As if all the times they had made love had only been dreams.

She kept looking down while his hand moved down to her elbow, slowly and gently, and then to her side, wrapped up by the thin and creamy fabric of her shirt. She didn't turn around, but she didn't push him away or reacted in any way to his provoking.

Spike wondered where her mind was. Where did her mind go in those moments when she seemed lost in thought? Maybe in heaven? This night, however, she looked almost untroubled (or _unhopeful_?), and he chose to take advantage of this.

He craved her.

Truth be told, he always craved her. He could never be sated of her. And every time they made love, he did it like it was the last time. The last time he sank his fingers in her soft hair, the last time he pressed his lips on her skin or smelled her scent. He almost choked with his desire for her.

Buffy winced, feeling his cold touch on her thigh. She closed her eyes and breathed harshly as his hand went down, then up her thigh, slowly raising the hem of her black lace skirt and lightly brushing her sex.

_«__Don't.»_

_«__Stop me.»_

His leather coat shifted behind her and she gasped in anticipation, hearing him work on his buckle and fly. She took a deep breath, her eyes still closed, her betraying body full of desire for his touch. He settled a hand on her side and the other on her shoulder, making her bend forward. He pressed his body against hers and slid inside her slowly, astonished at how easily she had surrendered to him.

_God, __the way she was giving herself up to him was so marvelous. She was so hot and soft and…_

He closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his forehead against the back of her neck, smelling the scent of her skin and her hair. Then he opened them and put distance between his mouth and that tempting neck. He looked down at her friends on the dance floor and narrowed his eyes.

_«__Look at them.» _He whispered in her ear, without stopping the movement inside and outside her.

_«That's not your world._

_You belong in the shadows... with me.»_

Buffy opened her eyes. A voice inside her mind told her it was wrong, she didn't belong in the shadows. She wasn't a creature of the night. And she seemed to find a bit of rationality, realizing her friends could easily lift their glances and see them.

She stiffened in his arms, suddenly afraid that she'd be discovered. But it was only for a second, just enough time for the thought to connect her brain, before losing herself completely to the sensations.

In that moment, it was really hard to think clearly and she did prefer to be cradled by his words.

Spike felt her reaction, even if it was weak, and bit his tongue. He was playing too much with her self control. But the Slayer relaxed soon, and he smirked. The way she had quivered and tightened around him, it had only raised his arousal. He kept moving, at first slowly, then faster, then slowly, in a hypnotic dance.

He came to think her friends were really dumb. How could it be that they hadn't discovered their relationship, or her depression? For a moment, he felt tempted to catch their attention on purpose, only to see the dismay on thier faces. But he realized it was not worth it to ruin everything only to satisfy his annoyance towards them.

What did it matter if they knew if that meant he could lose her? Better to do it far away from their glances, like a couple of thieves, instead of no at all. She had surrendered to him more and more times lately, and always almost totally. She would be _his_ soon, to all intents.

_«Look at your friends... and tell me... you don't love getting away with this... right under their noses.»_

He closed his eyes and began to move more frantically. Buffy gasped as he pushed her forward, against the railing, and she tightened her hands around it. His arms wrapped her, searching for her little hands, to hold them under his palms, as his face pressed against her neck.

«Spike…» She whispered hoarsely.

He growled in response.

«We can't… Not here...» she continued. «We should get away from here.»

He opened his eyes and slowed the thrusts. Then he looked reluctantly at her neck, thinking for an answer.

«Thought you would like to test the entire kamasutra on the couches…»

Buffy smiled, for the first time since he reached her.

«When this place is close and empty, _maybe_…»

When he pulled out and took a step backward, she felt a sudden sensation of emptiness and almost regretted the decision to stop him.

«What do you suggest to do, Slayer?»

Buffy turned around, letting her gaze met his. She looked for his hand and squeezed it, without saying a word.

«Did you lose your tongue? You better go and find it, for what I want you to do later...»

She lowered her gaze and he drew her hand toward him, surrounding her body with his arm. He lifted her face, then narrowed his eyes and stared at her, trying to read something in her face.

_Answers, desires, fears._

She lifted her arm to caress his wrist and let her fingers run up to his hand as it pressed against her cheek. Then she moved her hand to his face, slowly caressing his satiny cold skin, his chiseled cheekbone and his hollow cheeks. The vampire kept staring at her as several questions came rushing into his mind, and his expression became sweet.

_Are the__se signs of affection? Does she feel something for me?_

Buffy lowered her hand and diverted her gaze, like he was reading in her mind and she didn't want to answer his questions. He felt the urge to catch her gaze again and kiss her, but hesitated a second, unsure under her empty look. He hadn't kissed her and he craved it, but he knew that look. The Buffy-Summers-is-not-here-with-you look.

_She is sliding down the cliff and she is trying to grab something, and you are only an anonymous hand helping her to not fall. She doesn't want you, she doesn't love you. And she will never do it. You are only convenient._

He pressed his hand against the small of her back and he rubbed his thumb against the fabric, uncertain of what to do. Surrendering to his emotions, he pulled her closer.

He could feel her warm breath against his face. The quivering of her lips as she craved to press them against his. His lips parted slightly and he tilted his head, then closed his eyes, approaching her so slowly he could have died from the impatience; the need for contact.

Contact that didn't happen, or more correctly, didn't happen with her mouth.

She had lifted one of her little hands and had settled two fingers on his lower lip. He stared at her, confused, and frowned a little.

The interruption of the connection between their bodies let Buffy recover her rationality.

«It's _wrong_.» She said.

Spike grew even more confused. «What's wrong with you? What's _wrong_?»

The Slayer hesitated. «The whole thing. You know.» She answered with a weak breath.

«It's too late for conscience's sake, Luv.» He smiled.

He took her fingers, which were sliding on his chin, and led them on his groin.

«_No_.» She jerked away.

«No.» She repeated with more strength and pushed him away, putting some distance between their bodies, so she wouldn't give in again.

«Buffy!» he exclaimed, staring at her with wide eyes, offended by her refusal. He reached for her but she didn't take his hand. She stepped backwards and took her head between her hands.

«_Love_…» he tried to say, softening his stare.

«Don't call me _that_.»

She rubbed her face, like she was trying to wake up from an unpleasant dream. Then she looked at him, her eyes so green and deep and almost wet, on the edge of the cliff.

«I can't bear it anymore. I hate it. My weakness… The way I…»

Spike felt his temper raise, surprised by her words.

«I can't bear your fickleness anymore!» he barked.

He tightened his fist and his jaw, and his voice became hard. Buffy was a little frightened by him and kept stepping backwards.

«Well. Do what you want.»

These were his last words, before he fastened his trousers and turned away, stepping harshly toward the stairs. She looked at him, as he tightened and relaxed his fists, trying to recover his self-control.

She wondered if she would ever find the courage to leave him, to take away the one that made her feel better; the one that was always available for her when she needed him. She wondered if she would ever be able to stop that insane relation that was slowly destroying both of them.

Deep in her heart, she knew Spike would never leave her and that his love would never fail. She knew she could punch him, wound him with her words, tell him she would never feel anything for him, but he would always go back to her. He would always desire her, look at her with lovesick eyes, risk his life for her.

That was certain, even if she would never return his feelings. It was one of the few certainties she had.

What could she do, then?

She wiped her tears and looked around, searching for a place she could stay quiet for a moment. She settled on a chair and leaned forward on her knees, taking her head between her hands. She stayed there for an indistinct amount of time. Then, with an effort, she roused herself.

She rubbed her face again and stroked her hair backwards.

She needed to talk with somebody, to get some advice, to see the things under the right prospective. She remembered that morning she asked Tara to check the spell that brought her back.

"_I feel difference_." She told her. "_Maybe I came back wrong._"

She confessed to her she was worried about Spike, because he could beat her without activating the chip.

Now, she realized the blond witch was the right person to confide in. She would not be judgmental or blaming, and wouldn't betray her secret.

In the meanwhile, she had to avoid him absolutely. Carefully. And this was the real trouble.

"_Don't think at that evil blood-sucker. Everything, but not the blood-sucker."_

That was going to be her new mantra.

**The end**


End file.
